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had occurred.
    Only—he did not find it. His mind had produced a detailed picture of
that rounded depression, at the bottom of which the strong-jaw lurked.
But when he reached the crown of the bluff, nowhere did he sight the
mounded earth of the pit's rim. He searched carefully for a good
length, both north and south. No den—no trace of one. Yet his memory
told him that there had been one here yesterday.
    Had he fallen elsewhere and stumbled on, dazed, to fall a second time?
    Some disputant inside him said no to that. This was where he had
regained consciousness yesterday and there was no den!
    He faced away from the river, breathing fast. No den—was there also
no L-B? If he had passed this way dazed from a former fall, surely he
would have left some trace.
    There was a crushed, browned plant flattened by weight. He stooped to
finger the wilted leaves. Something had come in this direction. He
would back-track. Rynch gave a hunter's attention to the ground.
    A half-hour later he found nothing but some odd, almost obliterated
marks on grass too resilient to hold traces very long. And from them
he could make nothing.
    He knew where he was, even if he did not know how he got here. The
L-B—if it did exist—was to the west. He had a vivid mental picture
of the rocket shape, its once silvery sides dulled by exposure, canted
crookedly amid trees. And he was going to find it!
    Beyond the edge of any conscious sense there was a new stir. He was
contacted again, tested. A forest called delicately in its alien way.
Rynch had a fleeting thought of trees, was not aware of more than a
mild desire to see what lay in their shade.
    For the present his own problem held him. That which beckoned was
defeated, repulsed by his indifference. While Rynch started at a
steady distance to trot towards the east, far away a process akin to a
relay clicked into a second set of impulse orders.
*
    Well above the planet Hume spun a dial to bring in the image of the
wide stretches of continents, the small patches of seas. They would
set down on the western land mass. Its climate, geographical features
and surface provided the best site. And he had the very important
co-ordinates for their camp already taped in the directo.
    "That's Jumala."
    He did not glance around to see what effect that screen view had on
the other four men in the control cabin of the safari ship. Just now
he was striving to master his impatience. The slightest hint could
give birth to a suspicion which would blast their whole scheme. Wass
might have had a hand in the selection of the three clients, but they
would certainly be far from briefed on the truth of any discovery made
on Jumala—they had to be for the safety of the whole enterprise.
    The fourth man, serving as his gearman for this trip, was Wass' own
insurance against any wrong move on Hume's part. And the Out-Hunter
respected him as being man enough to be wary of giving any suspicion
of going counter to the agreed plan.
    Dawn was touching up the main points of the western continent, and he
must set this spacer down within a day's journey of the abandoned L-B.
Exploration in that direction would be the first logical move for his
party. They could not be openly steered to the find, but there were
ways of directing a hunt which would do as well.
    Two days ago, according to schedule, their castaway had been deposited
here with a sub-conscious command to remain in the general area. There
had been a slight element of risk in leaving him alone, armed only
with the crude weapons he could manipulate, but that was part of the
gamble.
    They were down—right on the mark. Hume saw to the unpacking and
activating of those machines and appliances which would protect and
serve his civ clients. He slapped the last inflate valve on a bubble
tent, watched it critically as it billowed from a small roll of fabric
into a weather resistant, one-room, air-conditioned and heated
shelter.
    "Ready and waiting for you to move in, Gentlehomo," he